


Sculpture of Regret

by stranger12



Series: Songs on Mute [2]
Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depressing, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-13 21:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stranger12/pseuds/stranger12
Summary: The plane goes down. There are no survivors





	Sculpture of Regret

The horrible, ugly, devastating relief he felt when he heard the plane had gone down was gone very fast, because the reality fell on him so hard he could barely breathe, and all he knew was that someone was holding him up, keeping him from literally collapsing onto the floor.

As a trauma doctor, he knew all about mass casualties, he knew what if felt like to know there were no survivors in a tragedy – and when the call came, when the word came that the plane carrying his doctors (Cristina) had taken off and dropped from the sky in the middle of the forest somewhere-

Days passed without update, they were searching, searching, and nothing was found, until- Until all of his hopes died when he learned-

They were all dead. Meredith and Lexie Grey, Sheperd, Sloan, Robbins.

Cristina. Cristina was dead.

He had to gather everyone and watch their misery, their guilt, their devastation. Torres screamed and fell with Karev holding on tight to her as she wept, and even his eyes weren’t dry. Kepner hid her face on Avery’s shoulder as she shook and cried, Bailey’s tears were quiet as she whispered under her breath, as if praying and begging for a miracle, and Webber suddenly looked a thousand years older.

And he- He blinked the pain away, he shoved it down and he whirled around. Someone had to tell the- The families, someone had to break it them that their sons, daughters, sisters and brothers were dead, someone had to be the one to tell them, someone who understood, someone who felt even a pinch of their pain and grief, someone who would stand over their coffins-

Everything was a blur, the wails and denials and thank yous. They thanked him for letting them know, they thanked him for being kind, for being sympathetic.

Sympathetic. Him.

Cristina’s mother in particular was so cold, so poised, she could only be Cristina Yang’s mother, she could only be the woman who lost her husband in the most horrific manner, and who raised a fantastic, extraordinary woman such as Cristina Yang, the love of his life, the woman who so enchanted him, who so infuriated him, who dragged him out of the depths of his PTSD, who made him feel such love and passion it shouldn’t be possible from a single person.

Everything that happened after, he could barely keep track of.

The funerals were properly somber, though each quite different from the other.

Meredith Grey and Sheperd’s were held together; on his side, there were so many family members there was barely room for them all, but on hers, it was mostly her friends and hospital staff. Webber and Bailey were huddled together, the woman holding his arm like a lifeline, and he wondered which of the two needed support the most. The Sheperd Clan was both inconsolable and stoic in turns, all of his beautiful, brilliant sisters crying and keeping it together, somehow. They kept looking over at Zola, safely in Karev’s arms, and he had to wonder what would happen to the sweet little girl.

Lexie Grey’s was much smaller, but no less heartfelt. Thatcher Grey, who hadn’t attended his eldest daughter’s funeral, was there, drunk and devastated, crying so hard it was a wonder he was still in one piece. Jackson placed a single red rose over her casket, and the regret on his face couldn’t be hidden by any amount of tears.

Robbins and Sloan, not quite friends in life, became companions in death as they were laid to rest side by side with Torres only just managing not to throw herself in with them. Their little girl could be heard weeping and asking why her mama was so sad, and where her daddy and mommy were. Karev held her as Torres fell apart, his face a mask of serenity in comparison to when he watched Meredith Grey’s coffin go down.

Finally Cristina. Her mother was ever so composed, the only sign of grief the slight trembling of her hand when she touched her daughter’s blown up picture beside the coffin. She traced her unruly curls, her fierce face before retrieving her hand and standing straight in her place beside him. Everyone was expecting him to cry, to scream, to do something, to show something, to show up hammered, to hide from the world for days on end. His calm unnerved people, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at all.

She was dead. Cristina had loved him, he had loved her, and she was dead, never to wreck his life anymore, never to brighten his life anymore.

Never, never, never.

Afterwards, life kept going. Somehow.

He didn’t allow Kepner to run away, no, he re-hired her, and she looked relieved and thankful. Avery and Karev stayed put despite the many offers they received; the former was doing well, managing to hang in there, but the latter was destroyed. He had always been a tough guy, so it couldn’t be easy to lose two of his best friends, plus his mentor, with whom he’d had a fight with that caused her to board the plane in the first place. The guilt on his face was clear as day, but he was in therapy, and for the moment, he was surviving.

Torres was in a bad way, though work kept her feet planted. He heard that Karev had moved in with her, and that they were trying to forge through together.

Webber had tried to quit, but Bailey had loudly refused to accept it, despite the fact that she had no business doing it. And so Webber remained, but the light in his eyes had died when Ellis Grey’s daughter died, and he became something of a reluctant mentor and teacher to the new interns, though Bailey took up the mantel, for the most part.

Life went on. Seattle Grace Mercy West welcomed news interns and attendings alike, and the plane crash became something of an urban legend, a tragedy that came and went.

Everyone asked how he was. His doctors had died on his watch, and his wife was among them. How was he?

The answer was too difficult, too honest, and too raw, so he said nothing, and went through the motions.

He missed her every day, and only the night knew.


End file.
